


Okay

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cousin Incest, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: After the mess of Bilbo’s will, it’s good to know what Merry got.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for the first chapter of LotR, for [the group read on tumblr](http://silmread.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s been an exhausting day all together and maybe an exhausting week, hopping from one party plan to another with half a dozen hobbits always under foot. Frodo still finds his throat a little hoarse from shouting them out of the pantry, and he doesn’t even want to think of how much cleaning there is to do after so many muddy feet, not to mentioning patching up the walls where over-eager youngsters went digging for gold. Gandalf’s visit was agreeable enough, but even that came with strange warnings and a thin thread of fear. Frodo _knows_ there’s something wrong with Bilbo’s old ring, but he doesn’t like to spare too much thought to it. After a packed day of handing out all of Bilbo’s old things, neatly organized and labeled but ravaged by the guests, Frodo doesn’t have any thoughts left for anything. 

He’s looking absurdly forward to his bed. He slips into his room with a candle in his hand and a mind to crawl right under the sheets, still in his clothes and everything. But there’s a lump on the side with the nightstand, starlit through the round window in the wall. Frodo sighs and pads over to close the curtains none too quietly, chirping over his shoulder, “Has it really been so long since you were over that you’ve forgotten which bedrooms are the spares?”

Merry pokes out from under his mound of blankets, blinking sleepily at Frodo and donning a charming grin. Frodo finds himself smiling for it and adding a little laugh—of all the things he could find in his bed, Merry’s one of the better ones. 

Merry rolls onto his back and stretches languidly out, the tips of his bare toes poking out the other side. “’S my inheritance,” he grunts around a yawn. Frodo lifts an eyebrow as he wanders closer, setting the candle down onto the nightstand and fully expecting his friend to get out or at least shuffle over.

When Merry does neither, Frodo asks, “Bilbo left you my bed, did he? And on the most tiring of nights, too? I don’t remember reading that in the will.”

Merry just fishes one hand under the pillow, then extracts a scrap of parchment, sporting Bilbo’s familiar handwriting. Frodo plucks it out of Merry’s larger fingers and holds it to the candle to read: ‘ _For MERIADOC BRANDYBUCK, this half of the second bedroom’s bed, as he seems intent on sneaking in whether I should like it or not._ ’ 

By the time Frodo straightens up from reading, Merry’s still grinning, though Frodo’s not sure if the colour’s drained from his face or all bled into his cheeks. He had no idea Bilbo knew, though in hindsight, perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his favourite uncle. Merry mumbles groggily, “Told you there was no point in being subtle.”

“Evidently you weren’t subtle _enough_ ,” Frodo stresses, turning to swat Merry’s curly head with the note. Merry just scrunches his nose in play-hurt and mirth. He’s too cute to ever truly be mad at.

And he’s here, when Frodo most needed him, now that Bilbo’s gone, and left the whole place emptier for it. He’d thought himself too tired for even one more conversation, but that was before finding the last of Bilbo’s notes. Now more than ever, Frodo finds himself glad he won’t be spending the night alone. 

He just wishes he’d had a chance to speak to Bilbo about it before Bilbo up and left. Merry reaches out to tug at Frodo’s shirt, tucked firmly into his trousers. With a sigh, Frodo folds the letter and sets in on the nightstand, far enough away that wax won’t drip onto it.

As he turns to hike a knee onto the bed, he muses, “I do hope you won’t be taking it back to Buckland.”

“And rob you of the other half?” Merry snorts while Frodo crawls right over him. “I’m not that cruel.”

Climbing under the sheets is a bit of a hassle, with how much Merry’s tangled them up, but Frodo manages to burrow in anyway. Once he’s settled, rolled into the center of the mattress by Merry’s weight and flush against the warmth of Merry’s side, he finishes through his own yawn, “Alright, we’ll leave it here for you then. For whenever you should visit.”

“All the time,” Merry promises. “And I’ve got my own clear across the Shire that you’re just as welcome to.” He leans over on one shoulder while he says it, tilting in to peck Frodo’s cheek. Frodo can’t help the smile it summons. 

Then Merry rolls over to blow out the candle, and Frodo says into the darkness, “Merry, seriously. Thank you for today. For everything.”

“Anything for a fellow Brandybuck,” Merry counters. It calls on the joke of the morning, where Lobelia threw it at Frodo as an insult. And Frodo just grinned and told Merry of it, who teased him right along with her. The sincerity comes through when he turns to snuggle into Frodo, throwing an arm over Frodo’s shoulder and nudging one leg between his thighs, entangling them together from head to foot, and Frodo shuffles close on the pillow until their noses are touching for just one more point of comforting contact. Bilbo was the closest family he had, and Bilbo’s gone, but he knows he’s not really _alone_. And he feels brighter for it than he has all day. 

He falls asleep in the crook of Merry’s arm and has grateful, pleasant dreams.


End file.
